


Summer Nights

by bittenfeld



Category: Miami Vice, Miami Vice (TV)
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7403611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drug bust goes bad and Castillo and Crockett are captured.  After they're rescued, they both realize they shouldn't waste any more time ignoring the feelings between them.  A first-time story, as Castillo and Sonny spend an evening in the tropical garden at Castillo’s house, exploring their growing desires.</p><p>New – final chapter:  In Castillo’s bedroom, the lieutenant and Sonny discover more common interests besides the OCB.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

No rage or horror twisted Castillo’s face as he watched the Latino across the room bend over and haul Sonny Crockett’s head up by the hair.  Only fury burning silent and deep in sharp black eyes betrayed the tension that sang frantically through blood vessels and taut nerves.

Ortiz smiled a clean white smile back at him, and yanked the blond head up another inch, eliciting a frightened shuddering gasp of pain from Crockett.  Two other goons held Crockett sprawled on the floor of the dirty little motel room, wrists manacled tightly behind his back with Castillo’s own cuffs.  The young detective rasped for breath, fighting desperately against his body’s own panicky desire to scream.

 “Hey, Mar _tín_ ,” the man called to the lieutenant derisively, taunting with bright clear eyes which showed no sign of drug use.  He only sold the junk – he knew better than to sample the mer­chandise himself.  “Hey, Mar _tín_ what shall we do with your boy here, eh?”  Another jerk of sun-bleached strands, and Sonny grunted again..

Well-trained to expose no weakness to an enemy, Martin Castillo glared calmly, coldly, at their captor.  Tight muscles graved the dark high-cheekboned face into stark relief, thick black mous­tache accen­ted lips skinned back over white teeth.  “Let him go, Ortiz,” the soft gravelly voice com­manded, and it _was_ a command, not a plea for mercy.  “Detective Crockett had nothing to do with your brother’s arrest.  If you have a complaint against me, you deal with me.”  Two other goons flanked him, not touching him, but keep­ing his ribs in close range to a pair of Walther P-38’s.

The snow-king only continued to smile; then reaching beneath his jacket, drew out a four-inch Ruger Mag automatic – Crockett’s own piece – and pointed it toward the lieutenant’s head across the room.  “I _am_ dealing with you, Mar _tín_.  How would you like to die by your friend’s pistola, eh?  Or per­haps we won’t kill you… perhaps we will just scar up your face worse than it is already.  Over there in the cor­ner, behind Alfredo, is a 20-gauge shotgun loaded with buckshot.  What do you think, Teniente Castillo?”

The additional threats could not make the situation any worse than it had already become… damn, where were Tubbs and Switek with the back-up?… They should have realized fifteen minutes ago that the bust had gone south.  But resolutely he refused to allow the adrenalin pumping through his veins to affect the steadiness of his voice.  “I think you should let Crockett go,” he reiterated, deadly calm.  “He means nothing to you.  It’s me you want to punish.”

“Sí, that is true, Mar _tín_.  And what better way to punish you than to toy with you and your de­pendiente, eh?  Maybe kill you both.  Or maybe use the shotgun on Detective Crockett while you watch.  He has a nice face right now, don’t you think so, Castillo?  Would you like to see a load of buckshot change that?”

Castillo said nothing; shifted his gaze to the panting sweating young man on the floor, neck strained against the twisting grip in his hair… Rico should have arrived with the cavalry twelve minutes ago… what was the hold-up?… And he couldn’t jump his own guards – not both of them at once – without getting himself or Sonny shot.

Inspiration lit the Cuban’s face.  “No, I have a better idea, Castillo.  We will not kill either of you – at least not yet – if you will play a little game with us, Mar _tín_ … comprende, amigo?”

“What?”  Anything to keep them alive a little longer, give Rico and Switek a few extra minutes to make their appearance.

The man’s grin transmuted into a faintly salacious leer, while his gaze slid over Castillo’s body.  “Take off your clothes.  Let Alfredo and Tomás… have a taste of you…”

Sharp disgust jerked Castillo’s head up again, eyes seething.  A belligerent shift of body-weight in Ortiz’ direction, but the metallic clicks of two pistols cocking at his sides interrupted his lunge before it began.  Quaking in his attackers’ grasps, Crockett gasped noisy shallow breaths.

The drug dealer chuckled.  “Did I shock your sensitivities, Teniente?  I would not have thought it possible to shock a great policeman like yourself.”  But you must agree, it _is_ a fitting punishment for a vice cop.  Encuérate, Mar _tín_ ,” – a casual nod of head toward Sonny’s two goons – “and if it interests me, I might even allow you to service Raul and Diego as well.”  Abruptly the amused grin tightened into a snarl; and wrenching the blond head again, Ortiz thrust the pistol barrel into Sonny’s open mouth, so deep that the young man gagged sickly.  “Do you need persuasion, Castillo?”

… and only the last thread of control prevented Castillo from exploding into maniacal action like a spring wound to the snapping point, mindless of the consequences… just drag Ortiz down and break his neck… no matter how many slugs Ortiz’ goons pumped into him… except that he couldn’t possibly do it before the Cuban blew Sonny’s head off…  So instead, he stood there, fire sublimated into glacial ice, and compliantly began to unbutton his sweat-clammy white shirt… and he listened to Sonny’s whimpering gagging gulps for breath around the Ruger’s steel muzzle, and he watched the young man choke down threatening panicky heaves.

And he considered the cruel irony, that this grotesquery would just happen to occur less than four hours after Sonny had stopped by his office and invited him to dinner for that night.  A dinner which had promised more than simply dessert at its conclusion.  It hadn't taken keen investigative intuition for either of them to ascertain their developing interest in each other, above and beyond Departmental duties…

But now it was too late for that or anything else.

* * * * *

“Lieutenant, did you hear me?  Are you all right?”

Abruptly the concerned tone of Crockett’s voice snapped Castillo out of the unpleasant recol­lection.  Three weeks past, and still the scene occupied his thoughts; three weeks past, since Tubb’s careful shot through a half-open window had blown the drug kingpin-bastard to kingdom-come, and all hell had broken through the front door of the squalid motel room dressed in Metro PD khaki.

Three weeks past, and neither he nor Sonny had mentioned their broken dinner date again.

Eyes refocused from inner contemplation to the tropical garden outside the sliding glass doors of the hardwood Japanese-style room.

“Lieutenant?  You okay?”  A hesitant question from the man standing back half-way across the room.

“Yes.”  He didn’t turn away from the peacefulness of giant birds-of-paradise, ferns, palm trees, stone Japanese statuary.  A cool evening breeze, sweet with the scent of frangipani, wafted through the screen.  “I’m okay.”

Crockett sounded like he didn’t quite know whether to believe or not.  “Yeah, uh, sure… well, any­way, I was just over at the DA’s office – thought I’d drop by… bring you up to date on Lo Loang’s latest game…”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

The visitor shrugged.  “Sure, Martin… well then, I’ll see you tomorrow… G’night.”  And turn­ing softly on a stockinged heel, Crockett started back toward the front door, bending to pick up his shoes left in the foyer.

“Stay.”

One quiet word from the solemn figure staring out the glass.  Crockett turned back, strolled closer to the slender shorter Hispanic man, moved up behind him, gazed down at the white-shirted shoulder.  “Sure, Lieutenant…”

Dark eyes looked up, piercing, deep.  “Crockett.” – and the mildness of the voice belied the intensity of the black gaze – “I think you and I have some unfinished business.”

A little smile tugged at the corner of the other man’s lips, and the uncertainty melted into re­laxation.  “Yeah, Marty, I think you’re right.”

Sliding the screen door open, Castillo stepped out onto the patio.  “Come on,” he urged.  “We have some talking to do.”

Willingly Crockett followed, down the stone steps and out into the garden.  Late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the lush greenery; a light breeze right off the Atlantic gently bobbed the broad-leaf philodendrons and banana trees, swayed the outlying cypresses.  Off in the distance, a flock of gulls squawked territorial rights.

At the edge of the garden, alongside a shallow canal, a small Japanese shrine had been carved into a huge outcropping of black rock.  A couple of curved stone benches took advantage of the shade thrown by the rock; Castillo availed himself him the closest one, Crockett sat down beside him.  A network of sun-gold scintillated across the salt-water streamlet; a fish splashed by with a flick of filmy orange fins.  Often the lieutenant relaxed here after work to meditate away the street-grime of the day’s job.

His visitor eyed him sympathetically.  “You’re still thinking about Ortiz, aren’t you?”

Forearms resting on knees, black eyes squinting out toward the evening marine layer brewing over the ocean horizon, Castillo nodded briefly.  “Yes.  I’m sorry you got involved, Crockett.  It shouldn’t have been your concern.  I’m sorry you were hurt.”

But Crockett just shook his head, body mirroring his supervisor’s slouch.  “Beg your pardon, Lieutenant, but the Ortiz bust was my concern.  And if your arrest of his brother last year was part of his gripe, then that was my concern too.”  Face tightened in irritation.  “Besides I wasn’t actually physically hurt.  Scared shitless, but not really hurt.  I’m just glad Rico got there with the troops when he did, or the whole scene could have gone down real bad…”Then abruptly catching himself from adding to the other man’s frus­tration, he turned downcast eyes toward the Latino beside him, brushed knees and elbows.  “I’m sorry.  I guess it was pretty bad for you anyway…”

Castillo shrugged the irreversibility of past occurrences, inner silent pain tightening little wrinkles around his eyes.  “I’ve… seen a lot worse.” – and said nothing about experiences suffered in the Cambodian mountains eight years back.  Hell endured, until he had had managed to escape from the Hmong drug-lord’s camp into the night; hell that had scarred his face for life, yet left him grateful that facial blemishes were the only lingering physical mementos acquired.

Friendly green eyes set in a tanned face observed the gaunt pock-marked cheeks a few inches away.  Crockett knew some of the old history, but not all of it, nor would he presume to ask.  It hardly mattered anymore, anyway.  A lot of life-experience had passed since, a lot just in the past few years here in Miami with the team at OCB – a lot of shared pain, a lot of shared success.

Encouraged by the other man’s unquestioning acceptance of their light body-contact, Crockett ven­tured a little further and touched a hand to Castillo’s knee, suggested tentatively, “You, uh, want me to stay for awhile, Marty?”

In response to the warm fingers, Castillo pressed his knee closer, propped an elbow on his thigh, rested his chin in a cupped palm, turned a benevolent gaze toward the blond man.  “I’d like you to spend as much time here as you want… if it doesn’t bother you that down at the office I’m your supervisor.”

Sonny grinned.  “Hey, Lieutenant, I promise not to bring up rank tonight, if you don’t.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” the Latin agreed, a little grin of his own softening lips beneath black moustache.  And reaching for the strong hand gently squeezing his knee, Castillo rubbed a caressing thumb over the knuckles.  But then the smile faded as quickly as it had dawned, darkening the som­ber countenance once more, while he absently caressed the other man’s hand and wrist.

Turning his forearm to clasp hands with his superior, Crockett suggested hesitantly, “Marty, if to­night isn't a good time… we can always do it some other time.”

A brief shake of head, squinting gaze turned to the sea once more.  “No.  Tonight is fine.”  The voice was quiet, rough.

Sonny followed the older man’s thoughtful stare, fingers playing with Castillo’s hand, and commented softly, “Y’know, I thought we were going to die.  I just about lost my head.  I couldn’t see it any other way.  We’ve had other deals go bad, we’ve had our covers blown before, things have given me the shakes.  But never like that…  When Ortiz made me… eat my gun… I knew we were both goners… I just knew it… God, if it hadn't been for Tubbs and Switek… I don’t know what I would have done… it scares me sometimes…”

Castillo nodded quietly, felt the reawakened tension in the body beside him.  He knew Sonny Crockett.  Like the rest of his people:  dedicated, proficient, and responsible at their jobs, ready to lay their lives on the line if the situation demanded it; safety-conscious but willing to risk what had to be risked when necessary.  “You would have done the right thing, Sonny.”

Crockett shrugged.  “I don’t know, Marty.”

Another empathetic nod of dark head.  “I do.”

But that thought didn’t ease Castillo’s own sharp painful memory of seeing his subordinate, someone he was responsible for – and more than that, a friend – caught in Ortiz’ brutal grip, choking on the weapon barrel, tanned skin shocky ashen grey.  His own rape had been hell, but that hell came nowhere near the grotesquery of watching Ortiz’ fore-finger twitch so tauntingly on the trigger, goad­ing Castillo to lose control and stupidly cause the younger man’s death.  However, Castillo had reso­lutely not lost control; had adamantly endured the humiliation in front of Sonny’s sight.  And two minutes later, it was Ortiz and his men who lay dead on the floor of that musty little motel room, while Castillo and Crockett lived.

Sonny chuckled, a humorless sound, tensed, strained.  “I, uh, picked up a new piece for my­self… I had a little trouble handling the Ruger… after what Ortiz, ummm…”

Another empathetic nod of thick black hair.  “I understand.”

And the somber dark gaze returned to his partner, and Castillo urged patiently, “But it’s over now, Sonny.  We have other matters more important to occupy our thought from now on.  It doesn’t do anyone any good to continually rehash old regrets, old garbage.”  And then his hands reached up to squeezed the Anglo’s shoulders, scarred but still attractive face leaned closer, and voice whispered, “Let’s help each other forget, Sonny…”

Almost instinctively, Crockett’s arms slipped around the lieutenant’s body.  “Sure, Marty… sure,” he promised quietly.  “We’ll help each other…”

And then without another word, Castillo’s mouth came down on his friend’s, and Crockett surren­dered wholly beneath the other man’s heat and strength and presence.  Tenderly but strongly Castillo sucked on the lips offered to him, felt them yield to him.  Caressingly his moustache brushed the clean-shaven face against him.  Crockett moaned; let his fingers slip up to the Latin’s arms, move up beneath the short sleeves of the white shirt, stroke soft skin of bare shoulders.  Intensely Castillo em­braced him, mouths seeking to know each other; tightly he gripped Crockett’s body against his own.

They kissed, and kissed again; and when Castillo’s tongue sought entrance, Sonny’s lips par­ted willingly and invited the searcher in.  Castillo tasted the newness of his friend’s mouth, moved his tongue over its twin and sucked harder.  In excited anticipation, the other man’s body quivered in his grasp, system overloaded with adrenalin; and Castillo could feel Crockett’s hot panting breath deep in his throat.

Kisses moved down Sonny’s neck; nose and lips and moustache nuzzled beneath shirt collar.  He tasted Crockett’s skin, slid across its smoothness, tried to commit the sensation to memory as if he might never have another chance to partake of such friendliness, such benevolence.  Benevolence rarely existed in a vice cop’s world.

“Marty,” Crockett urged, eyes half-closed in a steamy daze, “… god, what you’re doing to me…”

Raising his head from the pleasure of Crockett’s skin, the lieutenant cast a sharp glance about the secluded garden, as though police-instinct sought any sign of a possible witness to their interlude.  “Do you want to go back inside now?” he asked his partner.

A little humor danced in hazel eyes.  “You, uh, think we might be spotted out here, Lieute­nant?”

“I think the bedroom might be a more comfortable place for us to do to each other,” the older man suggested, a tiny glint in black eyes betraying the dark seriousness of the lean face.  “And I thought we were leaving rank back at the office, Detective.”

Lips pulled into a smile.  “Yeah, well, as my supervisor, you know I’ve always done my best to satisfy you.”

Faint amusement played on shadowed visage.  “As your supervisor, I’ll be sure to note that on your upcoming annual eval.”  And rising from the bench, Castillo held out a hand, “C’mon,” which Sonny took, then the two men retraced their steps through the garden and back into the house.

As they ascended the stairs to the bedroom, Crockett mentioned a little nervously, playfully, “I hope I satisfy you tonight, Marty.”

“There’s no way you could disappoint me,” Castillo assured simply, and entered the bed­room.

* * * * *

 _to be continued_ …

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Castillo’s bedroom, the lieutenant and Sonny discover more common interests besides the OCB.

“Something to drink, Sonny?”

“Yeah.  Thanks.”

While the lieutenant retrieved a bottle and two glasses from a credenza against the near wall, Crockett strolled into the bedroom and surveyed the simple Oriental décor.  A triptych of willow-and-crane-prints adorned the wall over the head of the futon.  The futon itself sat in a deep wooden frame, neatly covered by a dark-green silk spread.  A few silk throw-pillows rested casually across its width.  Up here on the second-story, the sliding glass door opened onto a balcony overlooking the garden, and through the screen drifted spicy flower scents.

Castillo placed a cup of saké in his guest’s hand.  Dark eyes smiled faintly at the hesitance of the younger man’s body-language, as Crockett scanned the room.  “Relax, Sonny,” he coaxed mildly.  “You’ve been in my house before.”

“Yes,” Crockett agreed, “But not in your bedroom.  And not for the same reason as tonight.”

“Do you have any doubts about tonight?”

“You know I don’t, Marty.”  A swallow of the potent liquor.  “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“So have I.  So, let’s enjoy it, all right?”  Then placing his cup on a black lacquer table near the bed, the Hispanic folded back the covers on the futon, and sat down on the mattress, then re-moved his socks.  He began to unbutton his shirt, all the while obser­ving the other man watching him in near-hypnotized fascination.  Every nerve keenly sharp, over-sensitized with anticipation, as he exposed a tanned hairless chest to Crockett’s view, pulled the shirt-tail out of the waistband of his slacks.

Setting his own cup beside the lieutenant’s, Crockett pressed his shins up against the edge of the bed, and took hold of Castillo’s shirt-front.  “Here,” – an offer delivered by throaty whisper – “let me do that for you, Marty…”

Subtle relaxation of serious expression, heavy-lidded eyes half-closed.  “I don’t think I can refuse the invitation.”

“No,” – a teasing pull of lips – “I don’t think you should.”  Then slipping the thin shirt off slim muscular shoulders while long legs unfolded, Sonny pushed a knee onto the bed.  A sensual lick of his own lips in front of interested dark eyes, then the blond head dropped, and a wet mouth pressed to a smooth pectoral, kissed the small gold medallion glinting against brown skin.

A sigh through white teeth, and black eyes drifted close.  Shirt dropped to the hardwood floor; wet lips caressed sternal valley.  Gathering Sonny’s head to himself, Castillo kissed the long blond strands, pulled at it with lips and teeth.  Gently Crockett’s touch urged him to lie back, then the youn­ger man’s face began caressing bare skin, cheek stroking across a soft nipple.  Responsively the small dark bud erected, as its owner pulled a slow trembling breath.

Kiss after kiss across prominent collarbones, planed chest.  Wonder­ful sensations tingled right down to a quivering solar plexus, and Castillo gripped his lover tighter to himself as a wet tongue prodded his tit.  So rarely did he ever let down his guard physically and emo­tionally, that the incredi­ble release beneath the hands of a trusted friend sparked every cell in his body.  Sensually Crockett sucked the nipple, bit it until the Latino moaned pleasure, then slid his atten­tion to the other tit, stif­fening it to match its twin.

Even the breath of air wafting through the room cooling the saliva tracks across his chest teased incredible feelings through Castillo’s nerves so hungry for erotic sensations.  His cock, still trapped in black trousers, began to awaken and stir for attention.  He didn’t even need to say a word before Crockett’s hand slipped down between their legs and cupped the incipient swelling.  At the loving touch, a knife-edge of keen pleasure zagged right to his plexus.

Erotically the blond man on top squirmed so that the material of his shirt caressed their tor­sos.  With a breathless sigh, Castillo unfastened the garment, slipped a hand around his partner’s back, bunched the material up to the shoulder-blades, and crushed it against sweat-tacky skin, while mous­tached lips kissed hair and face and anything else within reach.

In response, Crockett’s fingers moved to the fly of the lieutenant’s slacks, unzipped and un­fastened; then lifting his own body slightly, he pulled the hampering clothing out of the way.  Shirt fluttered to the floor, then Crockett stood up off his lover to drop his own pants and step out of them, remove his socks, then finish Castillo's divestment.

Smiling contentedly, head pillowed on an arm, legs over the edge of the futon, feet on the floor, Castillo looked his friend up and down in long slow gazes – the sturdy body, sleek hairless torso, well-muscled limbs.  Casually he rubbed his free hand over Crockett’s bare legs, teasing the sparse little hairs on the blond’s thighs, then reached up to gently fondle the half-erect cock and dang­ling balls.  Now it was Crockett’s turn to moan helplessly, as the teasing fingers flicked his scrotum, jiggling it slightly be­tween his legs.

Then with a playful curl of lips, he crawled onto the bed on hands and knees, over his supervi­sor, humming happily.

An answering purr rumbled in Castillo’s throat, and the Hispanic slid himself up on the bed, wrapped his arms about the other man’s body, then pulled Sonny down beside him, and tongued his mouth once more.  Bodies squirmed together, hands delving between moving legs, loins rocking gently against each other.  Genitals rubbed; grabbing hold of both cocks, Sonny fondled them with one hand, squeezed them together, pumped the engorging flesh, slid the loose skin of each, while Castillo locked a leg around his lover’s knees and began kneading one soft buttock.  Beautiful singing pain/need tingled in his crotch.  He could feel the aching pulse in his organ, could feel his testicles move in their sac, as Crockett did his best to spontaneously combust both their bodies.

Then breaking the deep-throated kiss, Crockett wriggled his way under the other man’s weight so that they lay face-to-face.  Lips tugged gently at Castillo’s moustache, traced wet trail to an ear.  “Toca me, Mar _tín_ ,” he begged breathily, erotically, in Castillo’s native language, “toca me…por favor…”  Tongue played with the golden chain encircling a strong lean neck.

Without further urging, Castillo obliged, touched his lover all over, skated light fingertips over sensitive belly, plucked at wiry pubic hair.  Sonny moaned, and splayed his knees on the either side of Castillo’s hips.

Fire licked at Castillo’s nerve endings, disintegrating all his discipline, all his control.  Sonny’s little touches over his super-sensitive cock-head conspired with the flame to do him in.  Now it was his turn to nuzzle into a vulnerable ear and whisper huskily, “I need to enter you, Sonny.  Please.  Let me enter you.”

“Sure, man…” Crockett yielded easily.  “I told you… I always try to… satisfy my supervisor …”  Breath rasped excitedly, a warm feathery wash by Castillo’s ear.  “Just go easy on me, lover…  I’ve got to be able to report for work tomorrow morning…”

In friendly response, Castillo nipped the earlobe pressed to his lips, tugged lightly.  Then without displacing himself from atop his lover’s body, he reached for the drawer of the night-stand and withdrew a small plastic bottle of lotion.  Carefully he squeezed a small amount of cream into his palm, then worked his hand down between them, began to gently manipulate his own organ.  Blood pulsed into erectile tissues at the stimulation, while shivery tingles danced all along its length and pierced to the depths of his loins.

Involuntarily Crockett moaned as the lieutenant’s slick creamy grasp took his sensitive flesh as well, and discovered all his most private places.  Castillo’s lips smiled against the man’s face, as he elici­ted icy little shivers by fingering the coronal ridge and foreskin, until Crockett’s hips lurched of their own accord in pre-orgasmic desperation, and the blond groaned utter helplessness, “… god, Marty… I’m gonna come before you even get it in… if you  keep doing… that to me…”

“Good,” Castillo murmured, lubricating both their organs well, then pushed his hand deeper between his partner’s legs.  Again he kissed silky blond hair over an ear.  “I’m going to open you up now … relax for me, Sonny… please…”  His own voice was no steadier than his bed-mate’s.

Crockett could only moan again, then sprawled his knees wider and cocked his hips up a little to meet the probing finger that slid into gluteal cleavage.  Carefully the digit pressed and circled his anus before inserting itself into the keenly reactive flesh.

A sharp intake of breath hissed between Crockett’s teeth, while a shudder quaked his muscles.  “… oh, Marty!… Marty, please… I’ve gotta come… right now…!”

“Wait,” the Hispanic whispered, firmly gripping the throbbing organ with his free hand to prevent movement and delay his friend’s climax.  Pre-ejaculate dribbled over his fingers, as his other hand worked in the moist heat between clenching buttocks.

“I can’t wait… oh gddd!…” Sonny begged, caught on the razor-edge or explosion.  “Please, Marty, now!…”

Against his own useless attempts at last-minute control, Castillo’s loins began to rock over the body beneath, seeking entrance, seeking completion; and he had to admit with a gasp, “… I can’t wait either…” Then as quickly as his eager trembling fingers could manage, he grabbed his own leak­ing organ and angled it to the small tight opening into Crockett’s body.

Deliberately the rigid flesh began to intrude into warm moist depths, slow inch after slow inch, accompanied by mutual grunts, gasps, clenching muscles, bodies rocking in eager counterpoint.  Sensually Castillo kissed the sweaty skin beneath his lips, clutched muscled shoulders, experiencing the blond’s strength; rubbed his open mouth against hairless chest, tongued rosy tits.

“Marty…” Crockett whispered in euphoric haze, ramming up and plunging the stiff probe deeper inside himself.  Begging for stimulation, his cock rubbed between their bellies, tingling from the won­derful friction of coarse pubic hairs.  “… please, Marty…”  Fingers slid into thick black waves, tan­gled it, yanked it, pressed the face to his chest as they worked together intently.  Until finally the heavy cock filled him completely, and a long sigh escaped Crockett’s teeth.  His touch combed through his lover’s hair, as he begged desperately, “Now… c’mon, take me to the limit…!”

Castillo’s reply was only a muffled grunt against a firm nipple.  For all the past years that they’d known each other, never had they known this.  Wrestling on top of sweat-clammy sheets, making unrestrained love in a twilit bedroom, disintegrating any barriers between supervisor and subordinate, answering the desperate needs of two lonely men.

The warm tightness of Crockett’s channel squeezed Castillo’s throbbing flesh, until the lieute­nant thought he would go insane.  Power and intensity sparked between two bodies locked in un­damped emotion, pounding together, sweating, biting tender skin, dragging each other to the limit.

And then that limit exploded in a transcendental flash, and release overwhelmed flesh and bone; ultimate satiation that obliterated all conscious thought for an eternity of half-a minute; fluid filling a welcoming vessel to overflowing, cream spattering between two bodies trying to meld as one.

Castillo had no idea how long they lay sprawled across the wide mattress, boneless, muscles a quivering mass, waiting for the world to re-solidify around them.  Beneath his cheek, he could feel a heart slamming against a ribcage, could feel lungs pulling deep gulping draughts of air, could smell mingled odors of sweat and musk.  His own heart and lungs raced to recover normality; the intense over-exertion made his heart skip every few beats – he felt the heavy pounding in his chest, in his carotid vessels.

Crockett was the first to move, bringing an arm up to rest his hand on thick lengths of sweat-soaked black waves.  “Oh god, Marty…” he managed to pant, “… you don’t know… how long I’ve wanted to do that…”

The lieutenant said nothing, just lay there; and the hand slipped from his hair to trace the rivu­let of sweat trickling down the hollow of his spine.

“It’s been so hard for me at briefing…” the blond continued breathily, “… when we’re all to­gether in the squad room… and I’m watching you, and listening to you talk… when all I want to do is touch you… but I can’t, because there’s other people…  And sometimes you look at me like you can see everything about me… like you’re reading every word of my life… and there’s nothing I want more than to give it to you… right then and there…”

Castillo raised his head; and even in the lassitude of spent strength, the dark gaze still im­paled with its own characteristic subliminal passion.  “Sonny,” the soft voice reminded, “I’m just a man, like you… I’m not super-human… nothing special…”

“You’re wrong, Marty… Yes, you’re just a man.  But you’re a very special part of our team… and you’re important to me.  And I’m glad you let me into your world tonight…”

 A little smile tugged beneath moustache.  “You’re an important part of my life too, Sonny, and you’ve always been welcome in my world… and in my home.  It just took this long for the time to be right… for us to… share… what we’ve shared tonight.”

For awhile Crockett didn’t answer, but continued to comb stroking fingers through black hair.  Then hesitantly he mentioned, “I, uh, hope tonight wasn’t just a one-time occasion…”

“No.  I wouldn’t have invited you up here for just a one-night stand… I don’t use my friends like that…  And I especially would like more with you… if you want it…”

“Are you, uh, talking about making it something serious?”

Castillo returned his interest to a nearby tit; nipped at it gently.  “Would it interfere with your job performance if the two of us had an affair?”

Crockett grinned.  “It would interfere more to want you and not be able to do anything about it.  How about your job performance as my supervisor?”

“I can handle it.”

“Then there’s nothing stopping us.”

Dark eyes softened, closed part-way.  “All right,” he acceded quietly, and kissed his lover’s widening smile.

Eagerly the blond reciprocated; and mouths and tongues caressed each other, experienced each other, loved each other.  Arms and legs entangled, embraced.  Together they made quiet lazy love, too exhausted to do much more than kiss and pet and rub easily against other.

Until finally Crockett pulled back and stretched out on the futon, beneath the other man’s weight.  And grinning with relaxed contentment, he mentioned casually, “Are you hungry for some dinner now?  Let’s go somewhere and celebrate – how about that Thai place you took Rico and me to last week?”

The lieutenant made no effort to rise from the captive body under him, as he counter-sugges­ted, “How about some home-cooked Japanese instead?”

Crockett purred with a wink.  “That sounds even better.  You know I can’t resist the ‘Castillo speci­alty’.  And we can finish the saké… and then later for dessert…”

Off to the west, the sun set behind the Gulf.  And somewhere nearby, on a 39-foot sloop docked in the bay, a hungry alligator growled impatiently for its own dinner.

  
* * * * * **FINIS** * * * * *


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